


Martyrdom

by Leafling



Series: Dominion [1]
Category: Fright Night (1985)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafling/pseuds/Leafling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jerry gave him a choice; it was either him, or the entire neighborhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martyrdom

**Author's Note:**

> There are no conveniently placed objects on his desk to save Charlie this time.

_"I'm going to give you something I don't have: a choice."_

Charlie's eyes were clenched shut, his heart pounding so loud that he could barely hear the sounds of his struggling over it. He was terrified; a prey caught in the jaws of a predator. His blood turned into ice in his veins with each rush of the wind that washed over him.

Charlie struggled to find something to grasp onto. His desk was too far, almost completely out of reach. Even if he _could_ get a good handhold, Jerry was infinitely stronger than Charlie—than any human could ever hope to be—he could have shoved Charlie out the window no problem; could have crushed Charlie's windpipe as easily as a trash compactor crushes soda cans, instead Jerry just _held_ him.

Held him so close that Charlie felt the hard lines of Jerry's body underneath his many layers of clothing; yet so far that Charlie couldn't get a hard enough hit to connect with the vampire—couldn't grab onto Jerry and hold on to dear life as he was dangled over the decidedly lethal picket fence below.

Charlie panted and wheezed more from fear and exertion than Jerry's hand bearing down on his throat. His words wedged in his chest as he tried to call for help; the best he could manage were these little keening whimpers that seemed to do little to help his cause and more to rile Jerry up.

The vampire observed him with a dark look in his eyes; a thinly veiled promise of something sinister. Jerry's gaze was heavy as it raked across him. The heat of it made Charlie _sweat_.

The teen writhed and struggled like a trapped rabbit, feeling petrified and self-conscious all at once. Jerry had him right where he wanted him. He had Charlie completely at his will.

Charlie, in his blind panic, groped aimlessly for something— _anything_  to hit Jerry with. His fingertips grazed the cold metal frame of the photograph of Amy he kept on his desk, but it was too far away for him to fully grasp. In the end, all he succeeded in doing was knocking it, as well as a cup of writing utensils, onto the floor. The sound of the various sundry items clattering against the floor made Charlie cry out in despair.  _He was out of options._

Jerry grew impatient then.

His nails dug a little harder into Charlie's neck, nicking the delicate skin there and drawing little pinpricks of blood. Charlie hissed as he felt his skin split underneath Jerry’s talons. Despite the almost overwhelming urge to try and get away from the claws digging into his flesh, he fought hard not to wriggle against Jerry's tightening grip as he knew that the vampire could just as easily tear his throat out.

Thin streaks of blood trickled down his neck and Charlie couldn’t suppress a shudder as Jerry scented the air hungrily, his fangs elongating on their own accord.

When they met each other’s gaze, Jerry’s eyes were glowing red like rubies. He growled at Charlie then in a deep, rumbling voice that made the teen’s mouth go dry, "what will be, Boy? Either way, _I win_."

He was right. Jerry was infuriatingly  _right_. If Charlie said yes, Jerry would have him—turn him into a vampire. A monster just like he was. If Charlie said no, Jerry would probably still _bite him_ and definitely kill him. Jerry would kill him and no one would be any the wiser, falling for Jerry’s good-looks and otherworldly charm as easily as they did.

_He. Just. Couldn’t. Win._

Charlie choked on his curses. Clutching desperately at Jerry’s wrist, Charlie didn’t know what to say—what to do—he just stared with wide, glassy eyes at the master vampire who so causally offered him death or eternal life, as though it was something to be discussed at lunch.

Jerry clicked his tongue, mimicking the sound of a clicking clock. It was the most menacing sound Charlie had ever heard. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, all Charlie saw was the sharp edges of the fence—grizzly images of being skewered by his neighbor’s fence made him nauseated. The thought of his mother being awakened by the sound of sirens, the police banging away at the door to inform her of her son’s gruesome passing made him furious. She would be left all alone. And so would Amy.

Charlie was the only person who knew of Jerry’s true self; if he died, who would stop the vampire from murdering everyone in the neighborhood and moving onto the next? What would stop Jerry from killing Charlie and going right into the next room to do the same to his _mother_?

Charlie’s eyes were brimming with tears. He clenched them shut, not wanting Jerry to see him cry.

He didn’t want this; didn’t want the bite. But he hadn’t any other choice. It was him or the entire neighborhood; everyone he knew and loved.

Charlie’s response was almost inaudible. Though Jerry heard it effortlessly enough, the master vampire smirked and asked Charlie to repeat himself. _“Yes!”_ the teen sobbed.

“Yes?” Jerry raised a brow. “ ** _Yes_** , what? Tell me what you want, Charlie.”

Charlie’s voice was reedy and hoarse, “t-turn me.”


End file.
